Just Breathe… and Eat

It’s been almost two weeks since my sinus surgery/deviated septum fix, and I’m sort of losing it. I opted for the procedure in hopes that my airflow would improve and my migraines might be more tolerable. For the first week I was painfully losing it, followed by several being just completely out of control, and now I’m just a sedentary lump of a mess.

I knew that the surgery would be painful, and so I allocated two days after plus the weekend for my recovery. IT WAS NOT ENOUGH. No thanks to my doctor, who reassured me that this was going to be “uncomfortable” for a few days but “really not that bad”. Maybe I’m a wimp. I asked myself if I was. I’ve certainly had wimpy moments before. So I challenged myself not to be a wimp. No luck. I only ended up hurting and feeling whiny and badly about my lack of pain tolerance.

Six days after the surgery, I tried going back to work. Two and a half hours later, on the verge of tears, I packed up, told my admin, and headed home. … But not straight home. This was the point where I transitioned from painfully losing it to going completely out of control. Because somewhere in my lack of any sense whatsoever, my body told me that the best way to fix the problem was to head to the McDonalds drive thru. And in that drive thru, I, who very proudly doesn’t eat “that”, I ordered the quarter pounder meal. Large. And I ordered a fish fillet. And a southern chicken sandwich. There is really no life vest once you’ve broken through the “I don’t eat that” dam. The drive thru was the tipping point for masochism gone wild. I have no idea how much of the pain over the next several days was caused by the surgery versus the inflammatory substances I consumed.

Daydreaming about running today, which - Three cheers for Holly! - actually happens, I’m itchy to get moving again. My friends at work are going without me. Everyone I know seems to have run some kind of race this weekend. I cheered for, rather than ran with, my daughter during her 5k on Sunday. I have that panicky feeling that it will be hard, and I won’t be able to do it when I get to start again. I can intellectualize it all and see that it won’t be so bad – that I don’t have to wait for too long, but the feeling is there regardless. I see the doctor again next week for a progress report and will hopefully be cleared for more than just light activity. In my mind light activity was supposed to be only a few miles at a slow pace. In his apparently light activity is just my normal life at work and running the family.

Yet I know it will come. I will be okay. Each day is better than the day before. I will start moving again, and every step will be a good one. And in her first official race on her own, my daughter ran beautifully.